Tattoos
by RainbowDoom
Summary: drabbles! I always pictured Levi with a ton of tattoos


Had to get the snk out of my system before moving on to some original stuff. music: snk ost, infralove by Diablo swing orchestra.

Totally inaccurate, but whatever. THEY'LL ALWAYS BE CANON TO ME. also, dat torso. chapter 59, anybody?! where was he hiding it all?

* * *

><p>Petra Ral has lost one hell of a bet. "Go on," Auruo is saying, a smirk curling across his face. "You promised."<p>

Erd shrugs from the corner as he towels his hair. Gunther gives her a look of half-pity, half-amusement. They're all dripping wet—she hears Hanji yelling vaguely from downstairs about a leak in the basement, but she can worry about that later—it has rained for two weeks, now, and they have just gotten back from the most grueling expedition Petra has ever endured. She doubts she'll be fully dry for months.

"Oh, Maria, I cannot do this," Petra tells Auruo. She's blushing like mad. "Isn't getting back safely enough for you all?"

"Those were the terms!" Auruo positively cackles. "You agreed!"

"I didn't know what I was agreeing to!" Petra cries. She's bypassed pink and moved straight to a ripe magenta. "You all—"

"Not me," Gunther reminds her gently.

Petra grants him a small look of gratitude before turning on the rest. "You all know my weakness. I don't believe this."

"Welcome to the Recon Corps," Auruo says, and sits back to enjoy the show.

Headquarters has one working shower, across from the hall leading to the barracks. The hall is more like a long balcony, overlooking one of the larger, cozier conference rooms. Right now, they're the only ones occupying it. Erwin came through a few minutes before, leaving a wet trail on the carpet, but he hasn't emerged yet—most likely he's nursing a bottle in his private office. Now is her chance.

"Go on," Auruo says again, and Petra knows she's not getting out of this. She slowly begins to climb the stairs to the balcony, her eyes on the bathroom door.

* * *

><p>Rivaille doesn't care if he scrubs his skin clean off, as long as the stench of Titans and blood and<em> trees<em> and wet forest floor is gone—until the next mission, anyway. The water is scalding, just the way he likes it. He disappears into his own thoughts for a while, trails his hands absentmindedly through his hair. His skin stings wickedly from the steam and the water and he has the idea that he might actually be removing his old tattoos the more he showers. Oh well. They're from another life, one that he'd rather scrub away, anyway. Except for the one right at the back of his neck, the danger spot for Titans, in the shape of a tiny pair of wings. Erwin has the same one. He remembers the day they both got them, the night they got back from their first expedition together.

_Now you're really a part of the Recon Corps,_ Erwin had said, and those blue eyes had gleamed with unmistakable pride and Rivaille's stomach had done that now-familiar flip-flop. _I've always thought there was something special about you, you know._

Speaking of first missions together, Rivaille wonders how his new squad is doing. The Bossard kid seemed awfully shaken up, especially that first day. Not to mention the rain, which had delayed their return by a whole goddamn week. And it's still raining—the last thing he needs is for Hanji to barge in and harass him about the basement again. One thing at a time, for Maria's sake. Right now the shower demands his attention.

The door slowly creaks open and Rivaille instinctively clutches at the shower curtain. Those tentative footfalls are certainly not Hanji's—but Rivaille has a suspicion, and his suspicions usually turn out to be right.

"Petra?" he calls, and then there's a massive clatter, as if the intruder has stumbled back into a shelf in shock. Yes, he's right.

"Corporal!" Petra says. "I didn't expect you to hear me!"

Rivaille scoffs inwardly but then reminds himself that the new squad isn't quite used to his abilities yet. "What do you need?" he says, then pokes his dripping head out from behind the curtain and catches a glimpse of her half-sprawled there, supporting herself against the sink, her face brilliant red.

She is not quite prepared to answer this question, and stammers out, "I—erm—ta—towels. We need more towels. It's—wet down there." She blushes deeper. "I mean, in the conference room…sir."

She edges out of sight to a far cabinet, carefully avoiding eye contact. A stream of soap runs down Rivaille's forehead and into his eye, and he has to close the curtain around himself again and wash his hair more thoroughly. He squints against the steam, and hears Petra swiftly exiting.

He's used up more than enough water by now, he supposes, so he turns off the shower and goes to step out into the bathroom. _Shit. _She's taken every single towel in the place. "Petra," he calls again, and steps back into the shower and holds the curtain around his body.

She comes back in, thoroughly bemused. "Corporal?"

"I need a towel," he says. "Could you get me one?"

Her salute seems a tad unnecessary, but he'll take it. He salutes back as she runs out of the room again, which is lucky, because with both arms occupied the shower curtain falls away from his chest and hips.

She passes him a towel without looking and backs out of the room again. "Thank you," Rivaille says. He thinks she's out of earshot when he says, "Fuck, I hope I don't bleed all over it, wouldn't that be a goddamn picnic."

Immediately she's back. "You're bleeding, Corpor—oh."

She's seen the tattoos. Her eyes get wide. Her eyes follow the curves of a spiked serpent up his left arm, then count the cluster of stars around his collarbone.

"They're from a long time ago. I used to kill men, not Titans," Rivaille tells her. "Ask the Commander." He runs his hands through his hair again, brushes his hands off on his thighs. He winces. It's not a deep cut, but it has bled continually since he got it, when a Titan bent back a branch as it reached for him. He almost escaped it completely, but as the Titan let go and the branch whipped through the air with lethal speed it had caught him on the thigh, and since then his gear had chafed it in a way that made every flight with the maneuver gear a minor nightmare.

"It's not bad," he tells her, truthfully, but she's still gawking, and now she reaches behind her for the cabinet and gets him a roll of gauze.

"I could wrap it up for you," she says, looking horrified at her own audacity.

"Thank you," he says. A little squad bonding time. Wonderful. He finds a clean shirt, drapes it over his shoulders. Pants should be trickier. He settles for just the towel, and Petra, with the same grace and swiftness that she showed as she killed her first Titan, unravels a length of gauze, holding it wide between her hands. He hitches the towel up his thigh, exposing the cut, and slowly, she begins to apply layers of gauze to it. It should be clean enough—his shower took care of that—he hisses as she presses the gauze to his skin with the tips of her fingers. She can't stop looking at the little crescent moon tattooed just under the wound. There's some kind of bird below that.

Now that she's working she seems less nervous. She sings a little under her breath—Rivaille distinctly catches the word "wings", but the song is unfamiliar to him. "You like to sing?" he asks.

She nods, adding another layer of gauze. "It's hard to sing out there," she says, nodding her head to indicate the rainy forest they just escaped from. "It feels wrong. Being in danger at every moment, you know?" She shakes her head. "Of course you know."

Rivaille tries to smirk. A genuine smile comes out instead. "I know," he says. "But, Petra, that's exactly why I love going beyond the walls."

She looks up at him in surprise, partly because of the smile.

"Being in danger at every moment—I live for that," Rivaille tells her. "When I first went outside—I felt like I hadn't lived until that moment. I never feel so alive as when I'm outside the walls. I just feel like—this is where we were meant to be."

He wishes he could convey exactly what he's trying to say to her. Words were never his strong point. Shitty humor, maybe, but not this sentimental stuff. Erwin, with his tough demeanor and impassive face, has always inexplicably beaten him at emotional encounters. With a jolt of terror, Rivaille suddenly wonders if he has ever actually told the commander that he loves him.

Petra beams as she rolls up the extra gauze. She nods. He has never seen her eyes light up like that. They are absolutely radiant.

"You know what I mean," Rivaille says. "It's why you joined the Recon Corps to begin with, right?"

She laughs. "Why else would anybody join the Recon Corps?" she asks. She puts the gauze back in its cabinet. "I had that feeling you talked about," she says, "the moment we rode out of the gates."

Rivaille smiles again, and smile lines appear around his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Well?" Auruo says as soon as Petra emerges from the bathroom. "How many?"<p>

Petra is taken aback. "Oh, Maria," she gasps. "I forgot to count."

Auruo slumps back against the balcony in mock despair. "Petra, how _could_ you," he cries. "We all had complete faith in your abilities!" His face changes, and Petra wonders if he's bitten his tongue again. "But he definitely has them?"

"All over," Petra confirms. "His arms are covered in them…his chest…his thighs—"

"Wait a moment," Erd says, "exactly how much of him did you _see?"_

Petra is spared having to answer when the bathroom door opens and Rivaille emerges, fully dressed from his cravat to his boots.

"You're bluffing," Auruo whispers out of the side of his mouth. "He doesn't have any."

Rivaille looks right at him. "Any what, now?"

Auruo flinches, as if Rivaille is burning holes in him with his eyes. "Never mind," Rivaille says. "I really don't want to know. I don't want to know why you're all gathered around the bathroom door, either. Please don't try to explain. Why don't you all run down and help Hanji with the basement and make yourselves useful?"

"Relax, Corporal! We just got back from a mission!" Auruo groans.

"And we're leaving again next Monday, thank you very much," Rivaille says, raising an eyebrow at him. "Welcome to the Recon Corps."

Petra swears he winks at her as he marches down the stairs towards the conference room. She's also pretty sure he's on his way to Commander Erwin's office.


End file.
